


The Premiere

by anonymousmadame2911



Series: The Blue Hippo and the Pink Pussycat [12]
Category: Chris Evans (actor) - Fandom
Genre: Attempted Rape, Court Case, F/M, Sexual Assault, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 19:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19837291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousmadame2911/pseuds/anonymousmadame2911
Summary: tw: sexual assault and attempted rapetangled emotions and feelings





	The Premiere

You rolled your eyes at the stock paper invitation in your mailbox. In gold lettering, you were invited to the premiere of what you felt like was your movie. This was supposed to be your moment. The moment you got your foot in the door. But, you just couldn’t. There was no way you were going to fake your way through a premiere. As soon as you stepped into your apartment, you pulled up the email address, and RSVPed no. Your life returns to its daily routine. The Blue Hippo. The Pink Pussycat. The Blue Hippo. The Pink Pussycat. You slowly stop hanging out with Sasha and Lucy. You see no reason to anymore. When you were in high school, this is not how you pictured your life would be at this age…a stripper struggling to make ends meet. Sure your new routine at the Blue Hippo gave you some small luxuries, but you thought by now you would have had a nice house and a couple of awards under your belt. Instead, you were a failed dancer with not one, but two busted up legs. How did you get here?

You snatch your cell phone off the bathroom counter, check your makeup in the mirror and rush off to the Blue Hippo. Just as you’re locking up the front door, your phone vibrates. The caller ID shows “Chris.” What on Earth? What would he even want?

“Hey. I heard you weren’t coming to the premiere?”

“God! Y’all really gossip, you know that? You always talk about me behind my back?”

“No. I just wanted to know if you were coming and I knew you wouldn’t take my calls. So I asked the event planner.”

“Chris. No. I’m just not going.”

“Come with me. It’ll be fun.”

“No.”

“Can I ask why not?”

“You know why. As long as he’s there, I won’t go.”

“He’s been removed from the project to protect the integrity of the film.”

“Too little too late. He’s still earning royalties. He’s still…ugh! He’s still getting benefits from having worked on the movie! And I…I get nothing!”

“You know he’s suing the studio for libel and slander.”

“What?! Why?”

“He claims that you’re lying. You wanted to have sex with him. You initiated it. You suggested going to his office and having sex on his desk….that it turned you on. You know the studio is going to subpoena you to testify against him, right?”

“I can’t. No. I just can’t. The studio hasn’t done anything for me, so why should I help them?”

“You can. You are that strong. Why can’t you see that? Will you at least go to the premiere with me—”

“No. I don’t have the money for a dress or to pay for my hair and makeup to get done.”

With that, you hung up on him. There was nothing more you wanted in life than to forget that you had ever met Chris. You wanted to return to being invisible…to giving lap dances to unforgettable men…to living with your fantasies of how the industry is. The premiere comes and goes. You watch a few clips on YouTube and watch with envy all the women and their gorgeous dresses walking down the red carpet. You look down at your black leggings and hoodie that you’ve had for ten years and decide that you made the right choice by not going. 

A month later, you’re served with a subpoena to testify against Louis. The lawyers already have a deal in place before you walk in for your deposition. By the end of the deposition, a number of them have stunned looks on their faces. However, the studio and Louis have already agreed to a deal. The studio will allow you to finish out your contract and in exchange you promise not to talk about what happened. You walk out. 

After a subway ride and a spilled coffee, you are raging. You are frustrated and pissed off. You decide to take it out on your favorite person. You pick up the phone and call Chris. 

“Is this how it is?! Women are treated like shit…like we’re disposable?!”

“Hello to you too.”

“Nah. Naaaaaaah. You already know who’s calling. Don’t play like that.”

“I have a great lawyer. He can help you. Do you want me to help?”

“No. I want revenge. I want Louis to suffer. I want the studio to go bankrupt. I want them to lose everything. Everything! I don’t have money for a lawyer. How am I supposed to pay him?”

“Lawyers are required to take a certain number of cases pro bono per year. That means he can work your case for free.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Fuck. Why didn’t I know this?”

“I’ll text you his name, address and phone number. I’ll let him know you’re going to call him.”

A week later, you meet with the lawyer, Peter Schonfeld. He’s frank about your chances of winning against Louis—incredibly slim. You didn’t file a police report. There’s no physical evidence. No DNA. No bruising. But you did tell your friends as soon as it happened. There are witnesses at the party. It amounts to hearsay and what the jury will believe—whether they believe you or him. You agree to move forward with the case knowing that it will take a lot of time and energy. You are grateful that he never once mentions Chris to you. You breathe a sigh of relief that you are taking action against this predator. Then you receive the call.

“I have some news about your case.”

“Ok?”

“My practice received a voicemail late last night. We sent a paralegal to investigate, but it seems that you aren’t the only victim. We are going to ask the judge for a delay in the case due to discovery of new evidence.”

You are named as victim #1 to protect you from harassment and death threats. Soon, victim #3 and #4 contact the Schonfeld practice to testify against Louis. Your case becomes much bigger than you. You are breathless with shock at the development. One night, you receive a call from Chris. Your friendship with him barely exists. It has disintegrated since Louis attempted to rape you. 

“Chris. I can’t believe this. Look at all these women he targeted.”

“I can’t believe it either. No one had any idea that he was like this.”

“That’s how they are. They don’t advertise that they’re predators.”

“Do you want to meet up and talk about it?”

“Honestly, no. Meeting you has been the biggest mistake of my life.”

“I can’t say I feel the same. I’m sorry about Louis.”

“You know. I used to think you were this nice guy with maybe a little bit of a naughty streak to you. But no. You’re just like all the rest.”

“I don’t feel comfortable talking about this over the phone. Can’t we talk about this in person?”

“Fine. You know where I live.”

A few hours later, there’s a knock at the door. You fall into his arms as soon as he’s in the door. He’s apologizing over and over again until you stop crying. In a moment of weakness, you look up at him. Just like that, you’re hypnotized by his blue eyes. You can’t remember who initiated the kiss, but you pull his shirt off. You pull him to your bed. You slip your finger between the belt and the buckle and flip his belt open, pop the top of his jeans open and pull them down. He’s kicking off his shoes and pulling off your hoodie. You push him onto your bed and grind against him. He strokes your sides and you nip at his throat. 

“Wait a minute. Wait.”

You look down at him and—

“No. Fuck it. I want you.”

You reach into your night stand and pull out a couple of condoms. You have your all of your clothes off in record time. You pull back the covers and push him back down on to the bed. 

“Wait. Really?! You’re going to leave your socks on?!”

“My feet get cold,” he says sheepishly.

You roll your eyes at him and kiss your way down his well-sculpted torso. You go in for the kill. You don’t want anymore teasing. You lick his dick from the base to the tip. You slowly take the tip into your mouth and relish in the feeling. Looking up at him, this is what heaven must be like. His mouth is open slightly. His eyes are closed, enjoying the sensations. His chest is a light shade of pink. You slowly take him bit by bit into your mouth. You stroke the shaft firmly. He fists your comforter, moving his hips in sync with your mouth. You see his movements become jerky and erratic. You release him and watch him from your knees. 

“Not yet bad boy.”

He reaches for you and pushes you onto your bed. He wiggles between your legs and you giggle. He’s still wearing those damn socks. 

“What?”

“What what?! Those socks!”

He giggles back at you. He slides between your knees and kisses down your stomach. You think you hear him moan, but you’re too lost in the feeling of his lips on your skin. He teases the hood of your pussy. You grip your sheets. You’re sure that they’re going to be ripped by the end of the night. He thoroughly licks between your folds from your tight entrance to the hood of your pussy. He thrusts his tongue into you. You’ve lost control of your hips and you’re rocking against his tongue. You love this feeling. You could live inside of this feeling every day—the beautiful friction and tension, right before you fall over the edge. You get closer and closer. You are right about to cum when he pulls away. 

“Two can play that game.”

You want to grab him and shove his face back into your pussy to finish the job. You’re frustrated, nearly growling at him. 

“Yeah. We’ll see.”

You flip over and grab a condom. You hand it to him and he rolls it down his shaft. He nudges into you from behind before pausing for a moment. You aren’t having it. You roll your hips back into him in a circle. You feel the tip of his dick rubbing against your G-spot. His hands have an iron grip on your hips, but you’re unrelenting in the pursuit of your orgasm. He tries to stop you. 

“Stop. I’m gonna cum—”

“Me too!”

“Fuck fuck shit! Baseball!”

“Oh yes baby. Your balls!”

“Nonono. Baseball. Grandma. Baseball.”

“Fuck! Off! With…that grandma shit! I’m just tryna cum. Let me have my orgasm.”

You’re rocking your hips furiously against him. He’s trying to compose himself so he doesn’t cum too quickly. You reach back and grab his hand. You push it between your folds. You reach back and pull him to you. His hands grip and flex against your hips. You’re completely lost in all the sensations—his hot breath against your brown skin, his beard tickling your neck, the friction of his fingers against your clit, your hips rocking into him, your legs against his legs, your sweat intermingling with his. His fingers move faster until the warmth in your belly washes over you. You fall against the mattress with Chris falling down behind you, barely missing you. You tuck your pillow under your face, awash in the feelings of warmth, relaxation and goodness. You look over at Chris. He smiles at you. 

“I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Me neither.”

“You know, I really am sorry about Louis.”

“I don’t want to talk about him. This has already destroyed everything that I’ve worked for my entire life. I’ll never have a career in Hollywood now.”

You get up to go to the bathroom and clean up. You grab some water bottles from the fridge and hand him one. You pull the comforter off of the floor and over the two of you. You lay on your back and Chris kisses your neck. You wrap your arm around him and gently scratch the back of his head. You fall asleep with your arms wrapped around each other and legs intertwined.


End file.
